


there's change comin' once and for all

by goandneverlookback



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Anorexia, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, implied/referenced eating disorder, kind!Morris, tw rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 00:06:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12493936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goandneverlookback/pseuds/goandneverlookback
Summary: *working title*Everyone knows the Delanceys are to be feared, perhaps you more than anyone else now. But what if not all of them are as evil as they seem?*i'm so sorry i suck at summaries just give it a chance?*





	1. Chapter 1

            He found you there, bruised and bleeding in the alleyway. You were terrified, afraid he’d come to do what his brother had done before. You shut your eyes, praying to anyone or anything that might listen that he will spare you. Your hat lays across the alleyway, your long hair spilling across your shoulders. Your secret is out. There’s no way Oscar Delancey would let your gender remain hidden from the other Newsies. The footsteps stop. You feel your heart in your throat, beating faster than you thought was possible. Fresh tears threaten to spill out from behind your tightly shut lids.

            “Hey.” You open your eyes at the soft tone of his voice. It’s so much gentler than you expected. So much less perverse than his brother’s. You peer out of the one eye not swollen shut. Morris Delancey is kneeling beside you, concern written as clearly across his face as lust for power was across Oscar’s. “Um… can you stand?” He looks so uncomfortable, remorseful, unsure of what to do. You try to move to a standing position and let out a hiss of pain. Drawing your legs together and in close to your chest, you sit in silence, trying to hide the pain, trying to calm your heart rate, trying to—damn. The tears spill over onto your cheeks despite your best effort not to let them. Everything aches. “Is anything broken?” Aside from your pride? Your self esteem? Your innocence? No, no bones are broken. With the slightest shake of your head, you let Morris know. He moves to tuck an arm under your shoulder and you instinctively cringe back. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. But we can’t stay out here. I have a secret place he doesn’t know about. You can heal, and rest. He won’t hurt you again. I promise.” Anger flares in your watery eyes as you shoot a look at the younger Delancey brother. He sighs. “He came back to dad’s place, ready to brag about what he’d done. Only…he expected I’d take his side. This was too far. They’re family, usually I can shut up and take enough to not get beat up. But they taught me how to fight too. Oscar won’t hurt you no more, nor is he gonna let anyone know about your…ya know…” He motions to your hair, blushing and looking down at his hands as he notices the change in your expression. The anger is gone, and in it’s place is…confusion? Concern? Maybe even a little admiration? “Anyways, I’m not gonna be going home no more, and Oscar ain’t gonna be anywhere near you.” He got in a fight with his brother…over you. When he didn’t even know you. You didn’t think any of the Delanceys had morals, but…this one does. He know right from wrong, and risked getting put in the same shape you’re in to stand up for it. Wordlessly, you untangle your arms from yourself and he takes the cue to help you up. Your legs shake as you stand, tired and aching from being wrenched apart, violated in between. They won’t hold you long. Just as your knees begin to buckle, he sweeps one arm behind your shoulders and the other behind your knees, carrying you bridal style as you fight back tears. You lose track of how long he’s been carrying you, but notice that the sky has changed from dusk to dark, and he is carrying you up a set of stairs now. He must be strong, even with your slight figure. Being a newsie, it’s not hard to stay so slim, with little food and constant walking. You’re grateful for it though. Any extra fat would go straight to giving away what you so desperately try to hide. You feel the ground level out and after a few footsteps, he stops. He lowers you onto a mattress on the floor and walks away. You struggle to bring yourself to a sitting position, choosing to instead curl into a ball on your side, your one good eye watching for him to come back. He returns barely a minute later with a blanket, unfolding it and carefully draping it over you.

            “Why?” The croaked, monosyllabic word is the first you’ve said all evening, the first thing to come out of your mouth since…your verbal protests had lead to Oscar deciding you had better things to be doing with your mouth. _‘Better.’_ Not the word you would have chosen for sure. Pain and remorse and anger all flash across his face at the sound of your voice before wiping them away to gentle concern. He looks down at his hands, fingers fidgeting with each other as he answers.

            “No one deserves what Oscar did to you. No one should have to go through that. I’ve stood by and watched for too many years. It’s time I took a stand. I know, I can’t undo his actions, but I can do my best to…” He looks off out the window, mouth set in a frustrated line. “I don’t know. It’s probably stupid. Why decide to be good now? I don’t know if someone like me ever can be good. But I want to try. Making sure you got a safe place to sleep for the night and got your wounds taken care of was just the first place I could think of to start. You’re welcome here as long as you need, but if you want to leave right now and pretend like we never saw each other tonight, I understand. I’m not exactly the kind of company you probably enjoy.” Truth be told, you don’t spend much time in the company of anybody, too afraid of roughhousing with the boys and getting found out. Too much risk, too much danger. But here tonight you feel…not safe. Not at ease. How could you only hours after…? But for some reason his words ring true. You’ve gotten good at reading people’s words. You’ve had to. Morris Delancey sits before you an honest man. He promises to protect you, and with what little choice you have, you believe that he will.

            “Thank you.” You barely scratch out the phrase before the adrenaline of the past few hours crashes into exhaustion. The last thing you hear before succumbing to sleep is the sound of his footsteps exiting the room and shutting the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wow this is not what i usually write  
> *thanks for sticking around if you've read this far  
> *if this chapter goes over well, it'll be a multichapter fic  
> *or even if it doesn't go over well and i just need to get the ideas out of my head  
> *if i write any of this inaccurately or insensitively, please call me out on it  
> *y'all are wonderful people and i love you all very much


	2. Chapter 2

            Someone’s screaming. The shrill sound pierces you ears. Another, deeper voice breaks through and the terrified shrieks stop. You open your eyes. Morris sits in front of you, just off the side of the mattress. A sheen of cold sweat covers your face and plasters your hair to your forehead. You swallow and it _hurts._ It was you that was screaming. You drop your eyes in shame. A gentle finger runs across your cheekbone, wiping away the tears that have begun to fall. He rests a gentle hand on your back as your tears turn into shaking sobs. You initially tense at the contact, but don’t pull away. Slowly, he begins rubbing soft circles on your upper back, careful not to touch your bruised ribs. It’s…oddly comforting. It’s almost ironic, finding comfort in the hands of the brother of the one from who the trauma occurred. The two of you stay that way, his hand moving in endless circles as your shakes calm to tremors to ceasing all together as the sun begins to peek over the horizon. He’ll have to head to distribution soon. On an ordinary day, you would too. But not today. You’ll take the lack of pay for the day. It’s not like you have much of an appetite anyways. You sit up and wrap your arms around the younger Delancey’s neck, a whisper of gratitude in his ear. He stills, shocked, then gently returns the hug.

            “Stay here today? You’ll be safe here, and hidden. You don’ need to be out walkin’ the streets all day feelin’ like this. I’ll try to sneak some food back for you ‘round lunchtime.” Fresh tears spill over your cheeks at his gentle kindness. You protest, not wanting him to go to all that trouble for you. You feel like enough of a burden already, taking up his space, disrupting his sleep. He insists, but you refute. Skipping lunch is hardly anything new to you, you’ll be fine. He pauses. The words are out before you realized they were there. A flush rises to your cheeks and you look down at your lap, ashamed, not wanting to see the furrow in his brow, the concern in his eyes. A gentle touch tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, revealing your face again. He promises to at least come back to check on you midday and stands to leave. Your hand reaches out toward him before you can stop it. He notices, and kneels to a squat again, taking your hand in his. You look up at him, and Morris Delancey is smiling softly at you. Reassuring you. Now there’s a sight you never thought you’d see. You squeeze his hand and do your best to smile back. It likely wasn’t much more than a twitch of a corner of your lips, but it’s a start. He squeezes back, and then he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben: Every newsie needs a girlsie  
> Zach: Actually I think a good half of our cast would rather have another newsie


	3. Chapter 3

            It’s been a few weeks since you’ve been living with Morris. Neither of you know if it’s permanent, or even if either of you want it to be. You just…haven’t gotten around to going back to your spot on the streets, and he isn’t in any hurry for you to leave either. You’ve grown to more than just appreciate, but even enjoy each other’s company. Sleep still often evades you, but slowly and surely you’ve begun to heal, even returning to work a couple of weeks ago. Neither of you have ever had something like this before, someone to come home to after work and let go of the weight of the day. Things have been going well for once…mostly. There must be some sort of stomach bug going around. The past several mornings, even just waking up has been nauseating. You can’t think of any other newsies that have been sick that you could’ve gotten it from, which puzzles you, but what else could it be? Regardless, it’s been getting hard to hide how miserable how you’ve been from Morris. Last night at dinner he mentioned you looked a little peaked, but you assured him you were just tired. Not entirely a lie. So far you’ve been able to keep the nausea at bay until you’re out on the streets, throwing up in solitude where no one could notice. Not this morning. You barely make it to the window before losing the contents of your stomach onto the alleyway below. Morris opens the door and you try to compose yourself, but your stomach heaves again and you remain head and shoulders out the window. You hear his footsteps cross the floor and feel his hand rest gently on your shoulder blades. Worry flares in him. Your bones weren’t nearly so prominent a few weeks ago. You swipe a hand across your mouth, leaning back inside the window. He puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you to face him. You look ragged, your face pale and gaunt. He leaves for a moment and grabs a rag from the washroom. When he returns a moment later, you haven’t moved a muscle, still standing utterly exhausted by the window. He hands you the rag and you wipe your hand and face with it before he pulls you into a gentle hug. You curse inwardly as tears spring to your eyes. It must be how tired you’ve been that they seem to come so easily as of late. He pulls back to look into your face but you refuse to meet his eyes. You hate being sick, feeling so weak and powerless.

            “Hey…what’s goin’ on?” You should’ve known you couldn’t hide it very long, as close as the two of you have become.

            “It’s just a bug. I’ll be fine.” The words feel false, even as you say them, though it’s really the only explanation you have to offer.

            “How long have you been gettin’ sick?” Guilt stabs at you for causing the worry so present in his voice.

            “Just about a week. I’m sorry. I should probably leave so you don’t get sick too.” You try to pull away but his hands stay on your arms, not trapping you, but still making sure you don’t leave. He pauses briefly before speaking again.

            “If you’ve been gettin’ sick for a week, I’d have gotten it already.” You stare down at your feet, unable to deny what he says. Your mind jumps to all sorts of terrible disease, having seen your dad and brother die after getting sick. Morris thinks back to his mom. Oscar was barely ten, he barely eight. He hadn’t been able to understand why someone could be so happy while being so physically miserable. Less than a year later, all the happiness in their house left with her and their baby sister. Their dad turned to the drink. Oscar turned…No. Morris shoves down the memories. Another time. Not now. Right now he has more important things to focus on, primarily you. He takes a breath, uncertain and a little uncomfortable. “How long has it been since…you’ve…ya know…” His face flushes bright red at the question and you pause, trying to figure out what it is that he’s not saying. It dawns on you and your eyes widen. You’ve always been pretty irregular, what with the constant exercise and lack of proper eating habits. What he’s saying makes sense, and it overwhelms you. You take a few shaky steps to the mattress and sit, burying your face in your hands. _Nononono. This can’t be happening._ You don’t want this. Not now, maybe not ever. You don’t know yet. You’re young. You have time to fall in love and decide with that special someone, not having the decision forced on you by a cruel, self-serving monster. As you feel the mattress shift with his weight sitting beside you and Morris’s hand on your back, the tears only fall harder. Surely he won’t want you here anymore. Too much of an inconvenience. Too much of a burden. You berate yourself for letting your guard down, hoping that maybe things could be alright. This is supposed to be a happy revelation, but all you feel is overwhelmed and ashamed and alone. “Hey…no need for that…it’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna get through this just fine. No need to cry.” Your mind focuses in on one word: _we._ He said _we._ He’s not leaving you. He’s here for you. You lean into him and let all the tears stream onto his chest, clutching his shirt as though he’s the last piece of solid ground in an ever rising tide. He holds you close to him. You’re younger than his ma was, healthier and stronger too he hopes. He vows to himself to do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t end up the same way his mom and baby sister did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more tired I get the worse my vision is. I had the word document to this blown up frickin grandma style.


End file.
